Behind the King Tut Autopsy That Reveals He Died In Chariot Accident

Perhaps the most surprising takeaway from today’s King Tut autopsy report—which revealed the 19-year-old pharaoh died in a chariot accident—is that there is an entire “team of British researchers” who have been dedicated to this effort, clocking in day and night to attempt, via a “virtual autopsy,” to understand what led to his death in 1323 B.C.

Marge, the wife of Devin, one of the researchers, called us this afternoon (note: she did not actually call us, and we highly doubt there was a researcher involved in this endeavor named Devin) to fill us in on what went down last night when Devin returned from the lab.

[Harp music and smoke.]

Marge lays on couch with a vodka martini, flipping through Lucky magazine. Devin stumbles through the door, countenance glum.

Marge [looks up, gleeful]: Babe! I just saw the news! This is so so great. It’s over. I can’t even believe it. You’ve solved it! We can finally catch up on The Good Wife. We have like five and I hear the two most recent are really good.

Devin [pouring himself a scotch]: Marge, you think I’m just going to be able to kick off my shoes and settle down for some Julianna Margulies? We discovered that the dude died in a chariot accident.

Marge: I know. I saw. So . . . ? People die in all sorts of ways. It’s sad, but . . . it’s life.

Devin: It’s life, Marge? This chariot accident broke all of his bones and crushed his heart.

Marge: Okay, relax, you don’t have to say “crushed his heart” with your eyes all widened like it’s some big, metaphorical deal. We get it.

Devin [runs his hands through his hair]: What if I told you this had happened to your beloved Brad Pitt? Would you care then?

Marge: What? What does this have to do with Brad Pitt? [moves over on couch] Just come sit with me, babe. You’re exhausted. You’ve been working on this autopsy for so long, and now it’s over. It’s a lot to handle.

Devin [doesn’t budge, looks away]: I have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it.

Marge solemnly finishes her martini.

Devin: Tim asked me to work on his next project. [whispers] We’re going to do a years-long hypothetical autopsy of Alexander the Great.

Marge [slams glass on ground]: Devin, I can’t live like this anymore. [She stands and marches to hallway, before turning around] You know what the funny thing is? You’ve been spending years researching the crushed heart of a 19-year-old from zillions of years ago, while the whole time you’ve been ignoring the crushed heart right here in front of you.